Wreaking Havoc
by Cinlat
Summary: This is a collection of one-shots, drabbles, challenges, and micro-fics that didn't make it into the main Meet Me on the Battlefield series, but still needed to be told. The Timeline will be set somewhere in the original story content before the latest expansions. Ratings will vary and be listed at the top of each chapter, along with any possible triggers.
1. Diversionary Tactics (BalicElara)

A/N: The was written for a Tumblr prompt for Caught in a storm. I chose Jorgan and Fynta as the duo because I'll never pass up an opportunity to poke a little fun at the grumpy space cat.

If you have requests, feel free to hit me up. I reserve the right to deny requests that I'm not comfortable writing but am pretty open-minded. It might take me a bit to respond to messages but rest assured that I will respond.

Fic Rating: Teen

* * *

"I hate rain," Jorgan groused. The Cathar ran a vigorous hand over his head to scatter the collected water droplets. His scowl deepened when he finally met Fynta's gaze. "Don't look so smug."

Fynta's grin stretched further as she palmed the door shut. "Look at it this way, at least now I have a reason to get you out of those clothes." She ran an admiring eye over the way the material clung to his body.

"This wouldn't have happened with fatigues," Aric grumbled, grabbing his shirt between two fingers and peeling it away. The damp material made an unpleasant suctioning sound, then snapped back into place.

Jorgan sighed. "How is it that you avoided being drenched?"

Fynta bit her lip to stifle the laughter that she knew her husband wouldn't appreciate. She'd gotten under a market awning soon enough to avoid the worst of the deluge. So had a large portion of the customers in the market, leaving Aric hovering at the edge. His body had blocked the worst of the weather from hers. No matter how much it amused her, Fynta tried not to find too much humor at her husband's expense. She absolutely avoided comparing his hatred of the rain with the domesticated species that people so often referred to him as.

As penance for avoiding the rain, Fynta palmed open the door to their first floor hotel room and stepping into the storm. Jorgan darted after her, his fingers sliding from her now slick skin. For good measure, Fynta held her arms out and turned a few circles before finally surrendering to the curses of her husband.

When Jorgan closed the door again, Fynta met his annoyed grumble with a kiss. It served to startle him out of calling her a nuisance, at least. Then, she stepped back to display her handy work. "There, now we're even."

Fynta's hair dripped down her back, culminating in a puddle on the floor. Her shoes were soaked through, and a chill crept over her skin from the environmentals that cooled their room. It was the clingy fabric that drew Aric's attention, though. Fynta saw the heat in his eyes as he scanned her attire.

Without tearing his gaze from her body, Jorgan nodded. "I think you're right." Fynta raised an eyebrow when her husband finally met her eyes. "We should get out of these clothes."

Later, with the lights off and heater cranked up, Aric and Fynta watched the wind whip rain and debris through the streets outside. The weather forecast claimed that it would last for another few hours, urging people to stay indoors.

Fynta snuggled closer to Aric while he absently ran his fingers through her hair. "It's a good thing we have leftovers," he rumbled beneath Fynta's cheek. "I just got a notice that housekeeping and room service have been delayed until after the storm.

Fynta hummed in agreement, not truly listening to anything except the soothing octave of Aric's voice. She ran her nails across his chest and stomach, eliciting a contented purr. Something thumped against the outer wall, and Jorgan tensed beneath her. "Udesiir, riduur," Fynta breathed, tightening her arms around his middle. Aric settled again, and she let her eyes drift shut to the soothing ambiance of thunder and rain. For now, in the center of this storm, all was well with the galaxy.

* * *

Mando'a:  
Udesiir, riduur - literally translated "calm yourself, husband"


	2. Repeat Offenders (Balic & Fynta)

Word count: 418

Written in response to the Tumblr Prompt "Broken Glass". Mostly because these two are the most destructive people I know. And, I love them.

**Rated: G**

* * *

**The Thunderclap**

Fynta smacked the wall, her elbow connecting with Cormac's shoulder while he tried to pin her in place. She couldn't remember what had started the scuffle this time. Someone had been a smart ass, the other reacted with a challenge, and things evolved as usual. Aric and Elara fussed every time she and Balic got into a wrestling match. Fynta figured it was because the two stiffs didn't know how to properly unwind.

Cormac lifted Fynta on his shoulder, and she slapped the top of his bald head with a resounding clap. The big man cursed and flipped Fynta over the couch in the middle of the ship, causing her foot to clip the new shelf that Elara had installed. The sound of shattering glass pierced through Fynta's revelry before she hit the floor.

Balic leaped over the sofa to land uncomfortably close to Fynta's face. He cursed, running a hand over his head. Fynta rolled up to her knees and winced at the mess they'd made. "Elara's going to kill me," Cormac breathed. "This one hasn't even been up a full week."

Fynta nudged at the broken glass. "Maybe we can fix it before she notices." Balic gave her a droll stare, not unlike the one his wife often wore. Fynta held up her hands in defeat. "Okay, fine, what is your brilliant plan?"

"Throw myself at the mercy of an angry, ex-Imperial." Cormac puffed air through his lips, then looked to Fynta. She shrugged, and he cursed again.

Fynta opened her mouth to suggest that they get started cleaning when the airlock hissed and Elara's accented tones drifted up the hall. She rounded the corner before either could do anything more than use their bodies to block the mess.

Elara chattered away at Yuun, eyes never leaving her datapad. She crossed the main room, not bothering to greet her husband or best friend, who stood shoulder to shoulder. Cormac had just released a long breath when his wife poked her head back into the room. One, pale blonde eyebrow lifted. "What are you two up to?"

"Nothing." "Missing you."

Fynta and Cormac spoke simultaneously, then shared a guilty look. Elara started to exit the medbay, then stopped. Fynta could see the conflict playing out in her mind, whether it would be worth the headache to represent them again. Or pretend that she hadn't noticed. Finally, the medic shook her head. "Whatever it is, just fix it." Elara vanished again, and Fynta grinned at Balic's stricken expression.


	3. Jaws of Defeat (Havoc Squad)

This was for the Tumblr Prompt "Don't die on me-Please." I took some creative liberties with it, and laughed entirely too much at my own characters.

Word Count: 706

Rated: G

* * *

Fynta's pod groaned under the pressure of another hit. A warning flashed in the top, left-hand side of her screen that her shields were down to thirty percent. The dots cluttering Fynta's radar scattered like a swarm of insects while she tried to stay alive. Their objective was in sight, all she needed was a clear shot.

"Uh, boss." Cormac's voice echoed through the cramped cockpit, and Fynta glanced to her right to find his beacon on the nav-screen. "I've got four on my tail, and I can't shake them."

Fynta jerked the steering column in her friend's direction, only to be cut off by half a dozen bogies. She snarled and veered off course, pulling them in her wake. "You're going to have to manage, big guy. I've got my own issues."

Cormac cursed. "I don't think I'm going to make it."

Fynta glanced at the radar to find that her own situation unchanged. "Don't you die on me, soldier!" Only silence met Fynta's command, and she swore a string oaths that would have made her father proud. She'd already lost Aric and Vik, Cormac had been her last man standing.

Checking her fighter's ammo supply, Fynta set the blasters to automatic and charged straight through the line of drones protecting the Mothership. Her shields dropped faster than Elara in a Mandalorian drinking game. Fynta knew that she'd have to fire the ion torpedoes now, or risk blowing the entire mission.

The drone directly before her exploded in a soundless fireball, and Fynta fired her entire payload. "Go on." She willed the four blips on her screen to break through the main shielding.

"Shield at five percent," the onboard AI offered. Fynta ignored it, fixated on the final white dot that inched closer to her target.

"Please." It was going to make it, Fynta could feel it.

Fynta's pod went dark and dropped so fast that her stomach rolled. She stared at the blackness, unable to accept such a crushing defeat. The door hissed, and light flooded the small compartment, followed by Cormac's face. "Better luck next time."

Curling her lip, and Fynta intentionally ignored the large, flashing GAME OVER sign on the screen as she clambered back into the overwhelming noise of the arcade. "Damn it," she cursed again. "We were so close."

Vik and Jorgan leaned against a couple of racing machines, both with arms crossed, looking far too similar for comfort. Two runts scampered between Fynta and Cormac to climb into the vacated domes to try their luck.

"Look on the bright side," Cormac began as they exited into the shopping complex. "We've got three more days of leave. There's always tomorrow."

"Not a chance in hell," Vik spat. "There's a piece of ass out there with my name stamped on it. Later, losers."

Fynta stuck her tongue out at the retreating Weequay before cupping her hands. "Be nice, Vik." She paused for effect. "And tip her well!" Her efforts were rewarded when Vik flashed a rude hand signal over his shoulder. Fynta felt much better.

"As much as I hate to leave you to pout alone, boss. I promised Elara that I wouldn't play games all day." Cormac offered a sympathetic smile and a slap on Fynta's back that stumbled her forward. "You two stay out of trouble."

Fynta kicked at Cormac before starting in the opposite direction with Jorgan. They walked in silence while she fumed over the stolen victory. "Would shooting something make you feel better?" The Cathar asked with an undeniable twitch of lips.

"Twenty-seven fierfeking points, Aric." Fynta threw her hands up. "That's all that stood between me and the high score." Jorgan's smile grew, but not enough to show teeth, he rarely did that in public. "Yes," Fynta finally admitted. "Shooting something sounds great."

Jorgan's low chuckle sent a chill up Fynta's spine, and she slid a lustful gaze his way. "Maybe you can help me unwind afterward?"

They had to be careful this close to base. No doubt their fraternization would be noticed. Aric's response was a heated look that promised a full night and late morning. When he spoke, it was in a husky tone no louder than a whisper. "You've got a deal."


	4. Long Hours (Aric Jorgan)

Word Count: 573  
This was written for the Prompt "Someone's greatest fear." and turned into a sequel of this prompt from the December Writing Challenge. ( post/168338760628/dec-08-facing-something-theyre-afraid-of)

**Rated: G**

* * *

Aric paced the cramped room while waiting to hear news of his wife. Dorne was the only one allowed beyond the doors that separated the medcenter staff from those doomed to wait out hours of uncertainty. She'd gone back to check on their progress-Jorgan glanced at the wall chrono-thirty-two minutes ago, and hadn't returned. In his mind, that usually signaled a problem.

For the last twelve hours, Aric had rehashed his and Fynta's conversation from the night before. She had shown true fear for the first time since he'd met her, not even bothering to put the usual effort into hiding her emotions. Jorgan stopped as his gut knotted to the point of nausea. Fynta was afraid, and he'd pushed her into having this surgery anyway.

Jorgan cursed foul enough to gain Cormac's attention. The big man set aside his holomag when Aric dropped into the chair across from him and buried his face in his hands. The cracked leather squeaked when Cormac leaned forward. "Want to talk about it?"

Jorgan shook his head, but when he opened his mouth to tell Cormac no, the wrong words spilled out. "I shouldn't have pushed her."

Balic shifted again, but Jorgan didn't look from behind the safety of his fingers; couldn't meet the other man's eyes. After a few more seconds of silence, Cormac released a strained chuckle. "You of all people know that no one can force the boss into doing something she doesn't want to."

When Aric looked up, Cormac's expression matched his tone. "All you did was remind Fynta of what she needed to do. If you'd really have forced her into that operating room, a hell of a lot more sedative would have been involved, and you'd probably be on the next table."

Jorgan let Balic's words sink in, nodding in appreciation when his pulse finally returned to a healthy rate. The man was right, Fynta would have been miserable at a desk job; they all knew it. A sedentary lifestyle would kill her spirit, which Jorgan wouldn't allow. His woman was made for the battlefield. Better to take care of her leg now, when she had a family to prop her up.

Still, Aric wondered if Fynta would hate him during the recovery for voicing such a strong opinion about a situation that wasn't his to bear? Before he could begin fretting again, Balic's large palm attached itself to the top of Jorgan's head. "Stop it," the big man said with a light shake. "She's going to be fine. You're going to be fine."

The door opened to reveal Elara, and Jorgan shot to his feet. He couldn't get the words out, so simply stared at her in a desperate need to know if his wife was okay. "Apologies," she began, wiping already clean hands on her pant legs. "I was rerouted for a shuttle incident, they were short-handed." Aric nodded and swallowed past the lump in his throat. Did that mean she hadn't been able to look in on Fynta?

Dorne crossed the room and laid a hand on Jorgan's shoulder. "She's doing well, surprisingly accommodating while unconscious." Aric wanted to smile at Dorne's attempt to comfort him, but it felt more like a snarl. Elara pretended not to notice and squeezed his arm. "The surgeon's estimate another six hours, and she'll be finished." The Cathar let out a ragged breath, and Elara's eyes softened. "Soon, sir. Very soon."


	5. Cold Blooded (Jorgan & Fynta)

Prompt from Tishina on Ao3 (Look her up!): "The problem is, you keep thinking that I'm a good person."

Word Count: 428

This is actually an excerpt from a chapter that didn't make the edit in Family is More Than Blood, where Jorgan, a loyal soldier, is forced to work with a woman whom he barely knows, and maybe even scares him a little. haha

Rated: T

* * *

**Taris**  
**En route to Command Base**

You're in no position to bargain. Fynta's words, delivered with a coldness that Jorgan had only heard from Imperials, echoed in his mind. Thorus had railed against her treatment until Fynta smacked him in the mouth with the butt of her rifle. He'd grown sullen then, eyes wide with panic.

Jorgan learned through her interrogation that Fynta had a way of getting quieter the closer to she was to violence. It had an unnerving effect, one he wasn't immune. Jorgan remembered the whine of Fynta's rifle when she squeezed the trigger almost to the point of discharge. Thorus caved then, falling to his knees to divulge all he knew about Needle's whereabouts and the forme Havoc medic's plans on taris. Fynta's expression never softened, and Jorgan wondered if he was seeing the agent from Epoch, instead of the feisty soldier he'd just started to respect.

When Thorus swore that he'd told them all he knew, Jorgan expected Fynta to let the man go like she had those prisoners on Coruscant. The fur on the back of his neck still stood on end when he recalled the smell of ozone in the cramped room, and the sickening thud of Thorus's body striking the floor.

Jorgan realized that, he'd never been so close to a kill before. The experience differed from watching a target fall through a scope. Yet, Fynta remained unperturbed. She stalked forward, kicked the body, then gave the order to move out; never once looking back.

Jorgan couldn't get the images out of his head. Even an hour later, the dead look in Fynta's eyes still haunted him. Jorgan didn't understand how a woman who laughed so easily could kill in cold blood with no visible remorse. At the suggestion of a former Imperial, at that.

Countless times on the way back to Olaris, Jorgan opened his mouth to ask if Fynta was alright, and everytime he snapped it shut. She'd already answered his question days earlier when Jorgan accused her of cheating at Sabacc. "The problem is," she'd teased, winking over another winning hand. "You keep thinking that I'm a good person. So, you play like a respectable soldier." Fynta had leaned forward and lowered her voice, eyes alight with mischief. "I'll do whatever it takes to win."

Jorgan had thought that Fynta was only joking. But now, he began to wonder if that's how she truly saw herself. Just one more thug in a galaxy of criminals. It left Jorgan with a heavy feeling in his gut, and a list of contingency plans to make.


	6. Refreshed (FyntaJorgan - E)

**Summary:** The food fight on Hoth is done, and it's time to clean up. Jorgan grumbles about the mess until Fynta gives him something better to focus on.

Word Count: 2,103

The food fight mentioned can be found in Family is More Than Blood: Chapter 34. This takes place towards the end of Fynta's recovery from losing her leg on Corellia, and the restrictions are beginning to wear on our poor Cathar. I apparently wrote this for a request, and even had it beta'd, over a year ago and never posted. So fixing that now. I can't remember who asked for it, so hopefully, that person stumbles across it at some point.

**Rated: Explicit for sexual content**

* * *

**Hoth  
****Aurek Base Command Bunker**

Fynta turned the water in the commander's room as hot as it would go. Given the overcrowded nature of the compound on Hoth, all commanding officers were forced to share a room with two beds crammed into it, regardless of gender. Which worked out perfectly for Fynta and Jorgan. They'd shoved the two bed together and slept quite comfortably.

"I still can't believe you started a food fight in a Republic mess hall," Jorgan groused from where he scrubbed his cheek and neck with a rag. He hadn't been wrong about that goo being difficult to get out.

Fynta smirked behind his back, and the Cathar's eyes found her in the reflection of the mirror. " I still can't believe you shot everyone," she countered.

Jorgan dropped the rag with a defeated snarl and rounded on Fynta. "Only because you started a food fight in the damn mess hall." He didn't raise his voice, but the emphasis was clear nonetheless.

The Cathar took a breath, then crossed his arms with a smirk. Fynta's eyes were drawn to the ripple of muscle beneath fur, and Jorgan chuckled, flexing his biceps again. Aric wore a sleeveless undershirt and had already removed his pants to set aside for cleaning, leaving him in only his regulation shorts. His blatant attempt to distract Fynta from the quip worked.

"If I remember correctly," the Cathar began, intentionally lowering the pitch of his voice. Heat bloomed under Fynta's ribs, spreading through her torso. "You offered to help me clean this up." He turned his head, gesturing at the matted mess she'd made of his fur. Fynta had to fight down the urge to run her tongue along the taut skin under his jaw.

Shab , Fynta swore inwardly. Desire hit the woman hard enough to make her lightheaded. Before she realized that she'd moved, Fynta had crossed the room to snatch Aric by the front of the shirt and crushed her mouth to his.

To Fynta's delight, Jorgan responded in kind. He'd been stubbornly resolute about waiting until she was ready, claiming her healing was more important than fleeting pleasures. Now, his hand slid down her back, pulling her close enough to feel the extent of his own arousal. The Cathar rumbled a deep growl when she bit his lip, then pulled back. Aric's eyes glowed, and his chest heaved against her own. "This is a bad idea."

The husky sound of his voice sent a shiver through Fynta. Wrapping one hand around the back of her husband's neck, she let the other slide down his stomach to fondle him through his shorts. Aric sucked in a slow, deliberate breath and closed his eyes. "Fynta." The need in the Cathar's voice when he breathed her name made everything else irrelevant.

Fynta stepped away to pull her shirt over her head. When the fabric cleared, she found Jorgan staring at her. His expression darkened, and while Fynta could see the argument forming in his eyes, his lips stayed sealed. He continued to observe while Fynta worked the fasteners on her pants, hesitating briefly before ridding herself of them. It was stupid to be self-conscious in his presence. Jorgan had seen Fynta at her worst and stuck around. His eyes traveled over her body, gliding past her fake leg with practiced ease.

"I did promise," Fynta exhaled, barely able to control the shakiness in her own voice. "I think a shower is the best recourse, don't you?" After all, the water was already running, it would be wasteful to ignore it.

Aric's gaze snapped back to her face. "Absolutely." The Cathar stripped off his shirt and shorts as he followed her into the refresher.

Steam filled the room, making the air thick and heady. Jorgan wrapped one arm around Fynta's waist to pull her against his chest, his natural musk overpowering in the humidity. It did interesting things to her heart rate. The muscles in his forearm tightened when she brushed her fingers over them. He took measured breaths next to her ear, pushing her hair out of the way while he ran his rough tongue along her neck. This time, Fynta didn't fight the moan that escaped her lips.

"Aric."

"Hm?" The Cathar responded, though it was clear that his brain had switched off.

Fynta pulled against his hold, dragging him towards the shower. "We need to get you cleaned up, remember?"

Jorgan relented enough to allow Fynta to step into the stall, then followed. Before she could make a move, her back pressed against the cool tile, and his mouth covered hers. Aric kissed her with consuming passion, making it clear that he'd reached the end of his patience. While Fynta knew her husband would never harm her, the Cathar wasn't being gentle. His hand gripped her good hip, fingers digging into the skin, while the other wrapped around the back of her neck. Jorgan held Fynta's head still so that he could nip at her lip, having mastered the art of keeping his teeth from drawing blood, but the pressure he used came close. Not that Fynta was complaining.

When Aric broke the kiss, he rested his forehead against Fynta's. "You need to tell me to stop." The Cathar's voice shook from the strain of denying himself the release he clearly needed. Fynta had no intention doing anything of the sort, and pressed her pelvis against him. He sucked in a breath and smothered her with another brutal kiss. She felt the hard line of his arousal pushing into her stomach and smiled against his lips. The idea that carefully controlled Aric Jorgan could be reduced to animalistic grunts rekindled a spark that Fynta had worried would be gone forever. She broke their kiss with a gasp, rubbing her thighs together while his teeth left a tingling trail from her lips to her shoulder.

"I have a better idea," Fynta whispered. Slowly, the major let her hands glide down his body, over his sides, and around his hips. Tight cords of sinew, made more prominent by his slicked fur, flexed under her fingers. Jorgan leaned away from Fynta, watching the path her hands took, his breathing accelerated when she slid them lower.

Fynta paused, fingers poised over her husband's painfully hard cock. When she flicked her gaze to his face, Jorgan's eyes blazed with need. Fynta watched, mesmerized by the way the water from the shower ran in streaks over his face, adding to the lines and patterns that she enjoyed studying.

Jorgan remained intent on Fynta's progress as she wrapped her fingers around him. His eyes fluttered shut, and he let out a low groan. Aric leaned into her grip, flattening his palm against the wall over her shoulder for support. A violent shudder ran through the Cathar, splashing water across her face.

Fynta set a slow pace at first, gentle enough for her to feel every texture and detail of her husband's body. Aric released her neck to lay his hand over hers, encouraging her to move faster. Fynta angled her face so that she could see his expression as he watched their hands glide together, his breath coming faster. "Impatient, are we?" She teased, then deliberately loosened her hold.

"Yes," Aric gasped, squeezing his hand around hers, trapping Fynta's fingers between his iron grip, and the pulsing rigidity in her palm.

"I'm not finished with you yet, Captain," Fynta purred, throwing the familiar line back at him. The Cathar's gaze darted to hers, and she grinned in the face of his carnal snarl.

Suddenly, Jorgan's expression shifted from scowl, to coy grin. He released her and slid his hand between her legs. Fynta yelped at his touch. "Then I'm not either," he husked, slipping one long finger into her.

It had been so long since Aric had touched her that Fynta momentarily saw stars. His strangled chuckle caused her to open the eyes that she didn't remember closing. He shifted, adding another finger and pushing deeper. "Fierfek," Fynta hissed, digging the nails of her free hand into his shoulder. "You're fighting dirty."

"Then fight back." Jorgan's breath warmed Fynta's face. She had nearly forgotten about the water until the cool spray misted her overheated skin. "Better make it fast," he murmured, hooking his fingers inside her.

Being so focused on what her husband was doing, Fynta had almost forgotten that she'd started this with him in mind. She tightened her grip around him and sped up. Jorgan matched her place, breathing heavily through flared nostrils. While Fynta lingered on his face, his eyes remained on their hands.

Fynta changed rhythm when his brows pulled together and his lips parted. It was difficult to focus on pleasing him when he hadn't let up on his own ministrations, but she knew exactly what he liked. Heat burned through her core, and she didn't care that she was panting. Jorgan repositioned his hand to rub his thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves with each thrust of his fingers. Fynta knocked her head against the wall, moaning loudly.

Aric leaned closer, bracing his elbow over her shoulder so that he could cover Fynta's mouth with his free hand. She met his gaze and nodded. It wouldn't do for them to be interrupted by a concerned neighbor now. Sliding her hand faster, she circled her thumb over his head with each stroke. Jorgan bared his teeth, but he never faltered.

Fynta knew the pressure inside her would have to overflow soon or she'd go mad. Rolling her hips, she finally found her release. She cried out against Aric's hand, sinking her teeth into the fleshy portion of his palm. Jorgan's hips thrust forward with enough force to shove Fynta back into the wall. He snarled, eyes squeezed shut, as he spilled over her hand and stomach.

After a few minutes to catch their breath, Jorgan leaned forward to press his head against the tile, letting his hand fall away from Fynta's mouth. "Damn," he choked. "I didn't realize how badly I needed that."

Fynta closed her eyes and sighed, feeling warm all over as he rested his weight against her. She pulled her hand from between them, letting the now lukewarm water wash away the evidence. Likewise, Aric removed his fingers, leaving Fynta feeling pleasantly stretched.

Finally, Jorgan pushed away from her and ran a hand over his face. Then, he started laughing. "Guess it's another cold shower." The playful glint in his eye, along with the insinuation that he had taken quite a few of those over the last few months, had Fynta laughing too.

Reaching over, Fynta grabbed the soap and a rag. She lathered it up, then gently hooked her thumb and forefinger under Aric's jaw to turn it. "I can always pull my hair into a tighter braid, but we should take care of this before it gets too cold." Jorgan relented as Fynta began scrubbing at the food caked into his fur. A gentle vibration resonated under Fynta's fingertips, and she smiled. The major had learned long ago not to accuse the Cathar of purring, but that didn't detract from the pleasure she felt at knowing she could produce such an effect on him.

Fynta lifted her lips to kiss the hollow of Aric's throat, her way of showing how much she loved him. The two of them may not be good at expressing such emotions in words, but Fynta had no doubt how he felt when his hand rested on her hip. She was pretty sure Jorgan knew too.


	7. Distractions (FyntaJorgan)

**Summary:** The tables have turned and Fynta finds herself in Jorgan's sights.

This is set after their first kiss, but before the infamous "R&R" scene. It was a Tumblr request from Dingoat for "When One Person's Face Is Scrunched Up, And The Other One Kisses Their Lips/Nose/Forehead."

Word Count: 687

**Rated: Teen**

* * *

Jorgan stood in the doorway, a smirk permanently fixed to his lips while Fynta snarled at the datapad in her hands. She was on her bed, legs crossed in that way females had while stabbing the screen with so much force that he heard her nails clack against it. "Need help?"

Fynta's dark blue eyes burned with an intense fury that stole Jorgan's breath when she looked up. He shouldn't be drawn to this woman. She was his commanding officer and a Mandalorian, two things that should send him running for the door, not sliding it closed behind him so that they wouldn't be disturbed.

Sighing, Fynta dropped the datapad and rubbed her temples. "Fierfeking inventory requisitions forms." She waved a hand at it with a snort, lip curling in an impressive display of disgust. "Elara should be brought up on a charge for making it look so easy."

Jorgan lifted a brow and held out his hand. Fynta gestured for him to sit, and Aric slid onto the mattress with more ease than he should feel. It was difficult to put his relationship with Fynta into words. Unwise, probably. Unsanctioned, definitely, but that hadn't stopped their first kiss or the ones that followed. Jorgan admitted that he'd started down a slippery slope without looking back and no idea where it would lead.

Picking up the discarded datapad, Jorgan swiped through the forms still needing completion and shook his head. "You haven't made much progress." He left it unsaid that she'd been working for two hours.

Fynta punched Aric's shoulder with a mocking quip before snatching the device. "If you're not going to help then sit there and look enticing."

Jorgan chuckled, leaning back against the headboard to lace his fingers behind his head. It was strange to feel so comfortable with a woman. In past relationships, he'd kept work and his love life separate, never allowing one to bleed into the other. It had led to quiet evenings and stalled conversations.

Minutes passed before Fynta's eyes narrowed at the screen. "I said enticing, not distracting." Though she didn't look at him, Jorgan knew he had her complete attention. He arched his back in a stretch the way he knew she enjoyed.

"Aren't they the same?" Jorgan folded his arms, enjoying the way Fynta's brow furrowed while she forced her gaze to remain on the datapad.

It was late enough that the rest of the squad had turned in, leaving them in peaceful solitude without her room. A wave of uncharacteristic giddiness swept through Jorgan, prompting him to lean close enough to hear Fynta swallow. "Am I distracting you?"

"Of course not," Fynta snapped, though the deep lines creasing her forehead and force with which her lips pressed together said otherwise.

Aric let a low rumble roll through him as he shifted closer. Fynta shivered but refused to look up. He enjoyed her reaction more than he should, the knowledge that his primal nature didn't frighten her the way it had his previous partners; Fynta wanted more.

"How about now?" Jorgan asked, pressing a kiss to Fynta's cheek. She sucked in a breath, eyes widening and almost darting in his direction. Jorgan pushed on, brushing his lips against her ear. Fynta's chest rose and fell faster as he followed her hairline to press another gentle kiss to the crease in her forehead. Fynta sighed, eyes drifting closed. "Distracted yet?"

"I'm not that easy," Fynta growled through a shaky voice and rigid posture.

Jorgan failed to hide his amusement, letting his mouth curve into a smile while he trailed kisses down the bridge of Fynta's nose. He paused to breathe in her scent, their lips inches apart. "You're sure?"

"Fierfek." Something clattered to the floor at the same time that Jorgan's back hit the mattress. He laughed into Fynta's mouth when she pinned his hands above his head, her weight centered on his stomach. "This doesn't mean that you win," Fynta grumbled in between playful nips and stolen licks.

Jorgan couldn't answer with Fynta's tongue in his mouth, and he preferred that to sorting inventory requisition forms, anyway.


	8. In the Quiet Hours (CormacElara)

**Summary:** Family time is something that Balic Cormac doesn't get often, and he doesn't want to waste a second of it.

Kiss List Prompt from Kierra. "Balic and Elara, Height Difference Kisses Where One Person Has To Bend Do Wn And The Other Is On Their Tippy Toes - because you gave me all the feels and I NEED more."

Word Count: 616

Timeline: During Fynta's Carbonite Nap

**Rated: Fluffy Teen**

* * *

**Coruscant  
****Residential Sector  
****Apartment 7865**

Cormac took a deep breath, savoring the moment of silent peace that would end in the morning. He'd made it home for Tayl's first birthday and owned Jorgan a bottle of that Corellian whiskey he loved so much for fudging the paperwork to get them through debriefs in record time. After losing Fynta, the grumpy Cathar was hell-bent on making sure that Balic missed as little of his son's life as possible. It was the only good thing to come from their situation.

Tayl slept peacefully, angular features illuminated by the glow of his mobile. Xaban had helped Cormac build it from spare bits they found lying around the Thunderclap. It was nice having another person to tinker with. Helping to ease the sting of Vik's desertion. Balic missed the Weequay bastard and tried to understand why he'd done it.

Movement dragged Cormac from his nostalgia and he smiled when Tayl rolled onto his back, small arms flung above his head. Kids slept in the weirdest positions, but so long as his son was content, Cormac wouldn't disturb him. A small coo from the crib marked the moment when Tayl settled back into sleep.

A hand touched Balic's arm. His eyes drifted shut, focusing on that single point of contact. Elara didn't ask why he was out of bed, she didn't have to. Cormac's arms opened to admit his wife, then folded around her shoulders so that he could rock them side to side. Elara's back pressed against Balic's chest and stomach, creating a perfect moment of serenity.

They stood like that for an immeasurable amount of time, enjoying being in each other's arms and the security of Tayl sleeping within reach. Finally, Elara yawned. "Come to bed."

Cormac let Elara turn in his arms to face him, but he couldn't take his eyes off their son. Her cool hand rested on his cheek. "You can't report to the Thunderclap dead on your feet." When Cormac didn't respond, Elara took a defiant breath. "Shall I recite the health hazards of rushing into combat fatigued? Because I will."

Before Elara could get the first warning out, Cormac chuckled and put a finger over her lips. "You win, doll. Lead the way."

Grey eyes filled with sadness despite Elara's bright smile. They both knew that it would be months before Balic saw them in person again. She didn't want to pull him away any more than he wanted to leave, but would do her duty. His health was forefront in her mind, always.

Elara added her other hand to Cormac's face, tilting it down to gain his full attention. "I love you." It felt like a goodbye; Balic hated those. He didn't want to start the grieving process ahead of schedule so answered the only way he knew how.

One of Cormac's hands was large enough to cradle the back of Elara's head. He kissed her forehead, free hand sliding down her spine to urge his wife onto her toes so that he could kiss the only woman to hold his heart. It was an awkward angle given that she barely reached his chest, but Balic would take the shoulder strain if it meant feeling her warm lips against his.

Elara's hand settled on the one caressing her cheek and their fingers intertwined. "It's not quite midnight," she whispered into Cormac's mouth. He pulled back, catching the new shine in her eyes and smiled. Elara bit her bottom lip and looked towards their room. "Perhaps some relaxation exercises first?"

Cormac's arm stretched between them as Elara pulled him down the hall. With one last look at his son, Balic surrendered with a sad laugh. "I'm all yours, doll."


	9. OC Kiss Week 2020 (BalicElara)

**Summary:** Cormac is settling in for a quiet night at home with his wife, but Elara has other plans.

Prompt: Kitchen  
Word Count: 423  
**Rated: Fluffy Teen**

* * *

**Coruscant**

Cormac shook the pan, inhaling the heavenly smells of a home cooked meal. He had four days of leave with Elara. Four days with the comms off and no one the wiser about where they were. Balic had considered purchasing a place of their own, but it would be too easy to find them. He liked having the ability to fall off the map with his wife.

"That smells wonderful," Elara called from the door. She dropped a bag that hopefully contained some sort of alcohol on the small island. "What is it?"

"One of Fynta's recipes." Cormac grinned over his shoulder while poking at a couple of stubborn vegetables.

Elara grimaced as she unloaded a bottle of white wine and another of something harder for him. "Then you don't expect to have dinner with your wife this evening?" There was a playful note in the reminder that she hated spicy food.

Cormac leaned over to kiss the top of his wife's head. "I left most of that out. It's no longer a Mandalorian dish. Completely Elara friendly."

"Are you having a go at me?" Elara asked with a light backhand to his ribs. Cormac grunted from the surprise strike and laughed.

"Wouldn't dream of it, doll." Balic shook the pan again, lamenting its lack of spices but preferring an enjoyable evening.

Elara popped his ass, earning another startled yelp. "Someone's feisty today," Cormac teased, wiggling his rump in invitation for more.

Pale grey eyes rolled, but Elara laughed as she hopped onto the counter beside Balic. "My attempts at distracting you are failing, I fear. On to plan B."

There was a method to their flirting. Cormac would say something witty, maybe make a subtly veiled comment about what he wanted to do, and Elara would respond with acceptance or a gentle rebuff. Her instigating was refreshing.

Setting the cooking utensils aside, Cormac slid the pan off the eye and turned off the flame. "No, no. I could be distracted." He stepped between Elara's parted knees and settled both hands on her thighs. "Did you have something in mind?"

With Elara perched on the counter, her new position negated the height difference that so often caused them trouble. Leaning forward, she wrapped delicate hands around the back of Balic's neck and tugged him into a passionate kiss. When Elara released him, it was to offer a peek at the vixen she kept stuffed down.

Cormac let out a long breath, losing himself in the heat of Elara's gaze. "I'm definitely distracted now."


	10. Falling (FyntaJorgan)

**Summary:** Jorgan sees what's happening long before Fynta.

Kiss Week 2020  
Prompt: Beginning  
Word count: 559

**Rated: Teen**

* * *

He was falling in love.

Aric inhaled along the shoulder of a woman who should be off-limits. His rough tongue coaxed noises from her that he'd never heard before. They were opposites, but he couldn't say no to this pull.

Fynta's lips moved against Aric's neck, nibbling at his pulse point and dragging a choaked growl from him. She moved to his ears, nipped at the pointed tips until his breath came in ragged gasps.

A light chuckle, low and husky, tickled the sensitive parts of Aric's ear. Fynta thought it was only arousal. She had no idea the metamorphosis that was taking place within him, opening his eyes to traditions and possibilities that Aric had never considered worth the effort.

For years, Aric's life had been duty and responsibility. Jorgan the soldier wouldn't allow his feelings for subordinates to venture beyond fair minded or extend past respect for his superiors. Then, Fynta had crashed into his life and turned it upside down. Not only upside down, but she'd also made him face parts of himself that Aric didn't know existed. She made him better in every sense of the word. He was a harder soldier, warmer confidant, and a better man.

Her nails scraped his scalp, eliciting a purr that Aric would never admit to. She chuckled again, nibbling his bottom lip and shifting her weight in his lap until the pressure was perfect. Aric wanted to ask how she did that but had seen too many glimpses of her past to brave the answer. He'd let Fynta keep her secrets and reap the rewards from it.

Fire. That's what Fynta reminded him of.

The thought came unbidden when her nails scored his back. Fynta was the cleansing flame that holy men spoke of, burning out the dull corruption of politics that could have so easily become Aric's career. She'd taken a bitter man and breathed new life into him.

Fynta pulled back, her face flush and eyes sparkling. Aric lost himself in a deep blue sea that could destroy him as easily as carry him to safety. Love was a strange phenomenon that allowed him to stare into the face of a blood enemy and see only the heart at her center of everything she did. Fynta was rough and loud, brash and reckless, and he wouldn't change anything about her.

I love you. The words were on his lips, so close to the surface that Aric could taste them. Fynta grinned. "Have I worn you out, Lieutenant?"

Too soon, he realized. While Fynta had Aric's heart, he couldn't be sure of hers yet. "Never," he growled, throwing her onto the bed and delighting in her laughter.

This was the start of the rest of his life. Aric had chosen his mate. No matter Fynta's decision, there would never be another woman for him. The thought was freeing. He'd expected dread and the fear of eternal loneliness to consume him but there was a certain peace in knowing where his future would go. Only two paths lay open to him now. One with Fynta, the other without her. He'd ask for her choice when the time was right. Aric was certain that he'd know and trusted that instinct.

For now, Aric would enjoy these stolen moments and bask in the knowledge that for now, she was his.


	11. End is the Beginning (FyntaJorgan)

**Summary:** Fynta chooses to leave fear behind and forge ahead with her future.

OC Kiss Week 2020  
Prompt: End (bookending the Beginning prompt)  
Word Count: 688

**Rated: Teen**

* * *

Married. Fierfek. Love? That wasn't her. Fynta had felt so confident the night before. She stared into Aric's pleading gaze and saw a future that she'd wanted so bad that it hurt.

Aric looked at Fynta from where he sat on the end of the bed, a smile lighting his features the likes of which she'd never seen. Those patterns of dots and stripes lining his face pulled into what his parents must have seen in a mischievous toddler who scratched the curtains. Lightyears from the fierce glower Fynta had met on Ord Mantell. He looked happy, stupidly, completely, happy. She'd done that.

Fierfek. With just a few words, Fynta had turned the grumpy Aric Jorgan into a grinning idiot. That was something to be proud of, right? Then why was her heart pounding and throat so tight?

Aric's smile slipped, head tilting in that infuriating way he had when he looked straight through her. When did Fynta become so transparent? She could plaster on a smile to fool the best spy, but Aric always knew.

Fierfek. Fynta was in over her head, so deep that she'd drown. The shadows that had protected her for years were melting away. She felt exposed, raw and vibrating with nervous energy.

"Need a minute?" Aric's question broke something inside Fynta. He didn't move to touch her. Just sat on the bed watching, afraid to move lest she panic and run like the scared little thing that she was.

Fynta shook her head. Another lie that Aric's tightened lips exposed. Her heart felt like it would burst from her chest, ribs contracting until they'd break and suffocate her. Permanence closed in from all sides. She'd done it, taken the final step that would tie them together for the rest of their lives.

Find a man you'd tear the galaxy apart for, but who would never ask you to.

Her mother's words echoed that same as they had last night. Fynta breathed, assuring herself that she'd done that. It was why she'd said yes when Aric proposed because there wasn't a better man in this galaxy than the Cathar who quietly laced up his boots while pretending not to notice her moment of weakness.

Fierfek. This time, the word had new meaning. Fynta smiled at the memory of his stumbling words and nervous chuckles. He was in over his head too. A Cathar who'd bound himself to a Mandalorian. That took gett'se.

Fynta squared her shoulders. She was done with the fear that kept everyone at arm's length. Well, maybe just this one person for now.

Aric saw everything in Fynta that she wanted to be. She wasn't the terrified girl running from the Black Sun, but a soldier who took on Sith. The SIS no longer commanded who she killed, slept with, rescued, or abandoned. She was a Captain in the Galactic Army of the Republic who didn't leave men behind. Aric saw a leader, someone worthy of his respect and loyalty. It was time that Fynta saw it in herself.

"How about breakfast?" A weight lifted from Fynta's heart, allowing her to breathe for the first time. She'd spent so much time living in her own past despite claiming that it wasn't the Mandalorian way. It was time to put it all behind her and trust this man to lead her into an uncertain future.

Aric stood, crossing the room to loop his arms around her. "You sure?"

Fynta smiled, fingers curling in his shirt to pull him into a kiss. All of her emotions flowed through that one point of contact. Let it tear down the walls that she'd spent a lifetime building. When they broke apart, Fynta could tell by the grin on Aric's face that he understood.

No more fearing the future, she'd live to make her husband proud. Fynta grinned. "I've got dibs on the perfect man and I'm closing in on my nemesis. Life is great."

Aric laughed and pulled Fynta close, forming their bodies together. She wanted to revisit this night when everything calmed down, give him a proper honeymoon.

First, they needed to survive Corellia.


	12. Hair Raising (Fynta & Cormac)

This came from a conversation with Dimigex about men's reactions to women's messy hair. While I usually write in a perspective style, I couldn't make up my mind who would be more fun, so chose to try my hand at narrative. I'm fairly pleased with how it turned out.

Word Count: 839

**Rated: G**

* * *

**The Thunderclap**

Cormac glanced up from his holozine. He had settled into a chair across from Fynta's room to indulge in a little light reading when movement distracted him. It took Cormac a moment to realize what was off about the Havoc commander, until the thing swaying above her head drew his attention.

Fynta stared down at the datapad in her hands, oblivious to Cormac's prying gaze. It wasn't until she'd seated herself across from the big man that she felt his eyes on her. Looking up through her lashes, Fynta faced the horrified expression that would have been comical were it not directed at her.

"What?" Fynta asked, wariness sneaking up her spine. She cast around the room for the source of Cormac's distress, then back at him when nothing obvious jumped out at her.

Cormac stood with calculated slowness to take the seat beside Fynta's. His eyes narrowed at the top of her head, then his index finger rose to jab at the pile of hair that she'd hurriedly situated there. Cormac hissed in mock terror. "What is this?" He asked, poking at her hair more.

Fynta slapped Cormac's hands away, but he refused to be deterred. The big man reached around her defenses to fondle the mess of blonde strands on top of her head again. "It's just hair," she complained, swatting at his fat fingers. "You better stop before Jorgan or Dorne catches you."

The threat fell on deaf ears as Cormac stood to get a better look at Fynta's new style. He'd seen her hair down and in a long braid, but the man had no idea that it was capable of such height. "It wiggles," he stated, chuckling when a light slap caused the whole knot to sway to one side before settling back into its original position. "How the hell does it do that?"

Fynta punched her best friend in the gut, not hard enough to do lasting damage, but with enough force to push him back. "For fierfek's sake, doesn't Elara throw her hair into a messy bun from time to time?" She'd done it in an effort to be lazy after showering, and a braid felt like too much work. Next time, she'd take the extra five minutes.

"Well, yeah," Cormac answered, grinning like an idiot. "But, it never looks like that." He waved a hand at the mass of tangles. Elara's hair only reached her shoulders, not quite capable of the volume Fynta had managed. "That's just cool."

Cormac took another step, intent on aggravating the commander more, but Fynta dodged away. "No way, soldier. Hands off the do." She dropped into a defensive crouch, dark blue eyes glittering in a challenge.

Cormac lunged, but Fynta skirted around the row of chairs to put a barrier between them. Cormac grinned, using his greater reach to pop the bun on top of Fynta's head. He laughed when she growled in frustration, then let out a grunt when they both hit the floor. Fynta straddled Cormac's stomach while he blocked her attempts get at his bald head.

Grabbing one of Fynta's wrists, Cormac rolled them both to pin it by her side while protecting his groin from her knees. The violent movement caused strands of Fynta's hair to break free of their bindings to scatter around her face. Fynta puffed out an annoyed breath, causing the wayward hair to billow into the air before settling into their original positions.

Cormac laughed so hard that he lost his grip and received a brutal slap to the ear for his mistake. Fynta kicked the big man off of her and shoved the now mostly scattered hair out of her face. "Had enough?" She asked with a playful snarl.

Fynta knew what that particular grin meant, and leapt out of the way in time to avoid being tackled. Her right foot wasn't so lucky, and she stumbled into the holoterminal. With Cormac holding her by the toes, Fynta planted her metal foot in an effort to pull free. Cormac chose that moment to let go, and Fynta sprawled backward over the terminal to land with a grunt on the other side.

Cormac had just cleared the impromptu divider when Fynta threw herself at him again, slamming them both into a shelf containing dataspikes and other small equipment. The shelf came loose, raining electronic slicing gear onto their heads. Both soldiers groaned in defeat as running boots sounded from different directions.

Jorgan slid to a stop, gaping his wife and Cormac who sat in a tangle of limbs, surrounded by sensitive equipment that would probably need to be replaced. Elara appeared from the opposite side of the ship, her expression mirroring his. "What have you done?" She asked in breathless exasperation.

Cormac offered his wife a sheepish grin, before looking down to see what was left of Fynta's top-knot right below his nose. He fluffed it playfully, proclaiming himself the winner with a victorious laugh. His humor faded to a grunt when Fynta's fist connected with his ribs.


	13. Never Do That Again (FyntaJorgan)

Based on a commission drawn by the talented Dingoat, which you can find on my Tumblr under the same title.

* * *

They reached one another at the same time, armor slamming together with a force that nearly toppled them over. The stench of singed fur still clung to Aric, but the strength of his arms around her assured Fynta that he was okay.

Fynta remembered the battle with painful clarity. She'd rushed onto the light bridge, drawing the Sith's attention so that Aric could get to a perch. She'd barely made it a handful of steps before growing lightheaded with inertia. Her body reacted before her mind understood, flailing to grasp anything solid to halt her plunge into the gorge below. When Fynta's fingers found purchase, it was on the edge of the bridge that she'd been standing on seconds earlier.

The Sith offered a gruff laugh, stalking forward with lightsaber poised for the kill. The hatred in those burning eyes, and the glee found in that madness was branded into Fynta's memory. Fynta's attempts to pull herself up proved to be in vain. Her armor had never weighed so much, further straining the tenuous hold Fynta had on the bridge.

A shadow fell over Fynta. She was out of time, gaze fixed on the angry blade inching towards her hands. The Sith could have kicked Fynta into the abyss, but she wanted a plaything. Fynta vowed to hold out for as long as she could, until every finger was severed if that's what her team needed to take their enemy down.

Imagined heat hovered above Fynta's left hand, and she braced for the pain to come. A flicker of movement in her peripheral jerked Fynta's head around. She'd barely registered the armor before Aric plowed into the Sith. He'd taken her by surprise, hitting her with enough speed that they skidded along the bridge for several feet in a tangle of limbs.

It didn't take long for the Sith to find her feet, and Aric's snarl of pain when lightning lept from her fingers echoed in Fynta's ears. She didn't remember shouting or the effort to pull herself to safety, only the frantic drive to reach the pair before Aric's armor couldn't shield him anymore.

The attack was a blur. Fynta's gauntlet slammed into the Sith's side, blade extended. The woman shrieked and toppled sideways, gasping through the hole Fynta had put in her lung. One hand extended, and Fynta's feet no longer found purchase. She hit the ground on her back, a spare ammo clip digging into her kidney with the landing.

A blaster discharged, and Fynta shoved upright to find Aric standing over the still figure with Fynta's Verpine in hand. She checked her holster to find it empty, then scrambled back to her feet. Aric's helmet lifted, then he moved too.

They reached one another at the same time, armor slamming together with a force that nearly toppled them over. The strength of Aric's arms around her assured Fynta that he was okay. He tucked her helmet beneath his chin and sighed. "Never do that again."


End file.
